Twists and Turns
by duchaness
Summary: A/U. Living the life of being a daughter of a famous parent may be easy as others think. But for Rachel, Quinn, and Tina, it is hard as a rock. How can these three survive with parent and boy troubles? Rachel-Centered. Finchel and possible other couples.
1. Chapter 1

**HEY GUYS!**

**I now introduce to you my new story: Twists and Turns!**

**This story's plot is taken from Joanna Philbin's **_**"The Daughters"**_** with some twists.**

**Note: Please Review:)**

**Shelby's surname here is Corcoran. She didn't take the surname Berry from his husband because Corcoran suited better and it is for her "stage name and stage purposes".**

"Shelby!"

"Shelby! Over here!"

"Shelby look at us!"

The sound of the cameras clicking, paparazzi screaming, and fans shouting Shelby Corcoran's name was just getting louder and louder that in any minute your ears will bleed. Rachel Berry did as what she usually does when her mom took her to Fashion Weeks. She sometimes stood by her side, go away as far from the paparazzi, and avoid getting pictured from the cameras. Standing beside her was her mother, Shelby Corcoran, The most beautiful supermodel and greatest Broadway singer in this damn world. Shelby was wearing a Dolce and Gabanna silver silk dress, her smooth brunette hair in curls and some oversized accessories. Rachel was also wearing a Dolce and Gabanna gold dress with some ruffles and her hair slipped on a headband. When they are being compared, they are like Princess and the Pauper.

Of course, Rachel was aware of her mother's drop-dead-gorgeous looks. Shelby's hair was smooth and bouncy that it can be styled in any desired styles. Her eyes were chocolate brown that change depending on her mood. Her lips were heart-shaped and bright red. And, her lean, voluptuous, body was just one of her best asset as a supermodel. Her voice was incredible, that made her a Broadway actress also. She was now launching her new fashion line: Broadmodels. The mixed word formed from the words Broadway and Supermodels. Her clothes were sexy, with lingerie and tight dresses on the line.

Rachel checked her watch. She was meeting her friends, Quinn and Tina. Quinn and Tina were her best friends since kindergarten. They were her superheroes. If anything happened to her, they are always there to make her feel better.

"Mom, I'll just go to the bar", Rachel whispered to her mother who was busy posing to the cameras. The cameras loved her and Shelby loved them back. She did her signature pose, arms on waist whil making her lips as pouty as possible.

"Sure honey" she replied without losing contact to the flashing cameras.

"_Stupid paparazzi"_ Rachel thought as she walked over the bar. The bar seemed empty. There were sign of people and even a bartender.

When she reached over the bar, she quickly removed her 4-inch high heels from her feet. She hated heels. She love sneakers, she hated heels. Her mom bought her this stupid high heels from her shoot in Paris. Of course, Rachel accepted it.

She rubbed her toes, gently easing the pain.

"Trouble with your feet?" the bartender asked. Rachel almost screamed. No one was in the bar, not even a bartender. Then this bartender just popped out of nowhere.

"Totally. I'm a sucker for high heels" she looked down. Her toes were screaming with pain.

" She's so damn gorgeous, isn't she?" The bartender blurted out.

"Who?" Rachel looked up and saw him pointing at her mother.

"That's my mom" Rachel said silently, she knew he wouldn't believe anyway.

Then the bartender burst in laughter.

"Nice joke" the bartender kept laughing and stopped when he saw Rachel's serious face.

"No really? That's your mom? It's just that you two just don't look anything….."

Before he could even finished what he's saying, Shelby called Rachel across the bar. Rachel looked at her then saw her signaling to come pose with her.

"Rachel! Honey, come pose with me!" Shelby called

Rachel groaned. Slipping her heels again then walked over to her mom through the swarm of paparazzi.

"Guys this is my lovely daughter, Rachel. Smile, Rachel." Shelby wrapped her arms around Rachel's waist while smiling.

The paparazzi were quiet and looking at each other. They happened to have flustered faces.

"_Here we go again"_ Rachel thought.

Then there was one flash. And another. And another. And another..

Then…

"Shelby, not that we are criticizing your daughter but, can we have more of you?" someone yelled.

"Yes, just you?"

The paparazzi were agreeing.

"Mom, can I go meet my friends? Now?" Rachel looked at her mom then whispered.

Shelby looked at Rachel, dissapointed. Then smiled back at her and squeezed her waist.

"Sure baby" she whispered.

"Ok..and mom?' Rachel murmured.

"Yes?"

"Good Luck" Rachel said silently. Her mom let go of her then smiled at the cameras. Rachel was now free.

When Rachel walked out of the room, her mind was now functioning properly and breathed in with relief. She was now free from the noise and flashes. She was now gonna meet her friends on Starbucks, their favorite hang-out place. In a few minutes, she was gonna meet them.

As she's walking through the street, with her heels strutting, she remembered the times when she was little. Paparazzi followed her and her mom everywhere, from school to house, from malls to cabarets. But now? The cameras seemed to follow just Shelby around, with or without her. Of course, she accepts the fact that she will never look like her mom. Rachel's eyes were brown and wide. Her nose was rather large; her brunette hair that seems cannot be in place, and her height. She was small, 5 foot and 2 inches. She took most of her resemblance from her dad. Her friends call her face unique, she calls herself weird.

"Like Uma Thurman looked like before she gotten pretty" Tina would say.

But no, Uma Thurman's looks is not the same as hers. But Uma Thurman didn't come to expect she was beautiful.

Rachel thinks that her weak resemblance with Shelby will scare the paparazzi away. But of course, her mother always likes her by her side. Posing and smiling, her mother was so proud of her for no reason.

As Rachel reached Starbucks, she saw a blond and an Asian waving at her at the bench. She walked towards them.

"Rachel!" the blond went towards her, Quinn's tan arms wrapped around Rachel as if she hadn't seen her in years.

"Hi Quinn" Rachel smiled.

"Oh my god, hi!" Quinn said. Jumping up and down on her flip-flops, as her blond ponytail swung back and forth.

"I missed you, Rachel!"

"I missed you too Quinnie." Rachel said, returning Quinn's frantic hug as best as she could. "And you're so pretty."

"And you're so short," Quinn said admiringly, letting her go. "You're like a midget now. I swear" Quinn's piercing green eyes were soft yet alive. Rachel thought Quinn was the most alive person she'd ever met.

"Oh my God, that dress is to die for," said the Asian, Tina Cohen-Chang. It surprised Rachel that Tina was becoming fashion inspired. She remembered back when they were little, Tina refused to wear anything except black. But now, she was the most best dressed of them three. She has black curls, oval-shaped face and her brown eyes sparkling. "Is that Dolce and Gabbana?" Tina asked in her sweet, gentle voice, looking at Rachel's gold dress.

"Yeah. Mom bought it to me a few weeks ago," Rachel said. "It's uncomfortable" she said with her disgusted face.

"We got you a Mocha Frap from Starbucks. Your favorite" Quinn said as they sat down. She was eating a pie with cherries.

Quinn Fabray loved New York. At first glance, she may look as a sweet gentle girl, but she was the most adventurous of the three. She was petite yet athletic. With blond straight hair and green eyes, she was really pretty. She was always the first one to do anything random. Whether it was joining the cheerleading team, flirting with guys, rollerblading and stuff more. She was very impatient. She can't stay in one place. Her favorite season was summer, of course. Rachel remembered the times when Quinn was always bugging them to go surfing but Rachel and Tina didn't have t he guts to. She wore today shorts, t-shirt with cut-off sleeves and ballet flats.

"I so need this," Rachel said, digging into her Mocha Frap. "It's gazillion degrees outside."

"Yeah, but Tina's still cold," Quinn joked.

"No I'm not" Tina argued then glared at Quinn, pulling her deconstructed fringed wrap closer around herself. "I'm just being sun-savvy."

If Quinn was the adventurous blond, Tina was the sophisticated, gentle, retro chick. She was beautiful, with pale skin, cocoa brown eyes and rosy lips, courtesy of her Asian background. When she was 6, she faked a speech impediment. She had slender build and perfect posture of a gril who studied dance all of her life. Tina was also incredibly stylish. She changed from Goth to Fashionista. Under her wrap, she wore a coral-colored tunic, platforms on her feet, silver hoops, and one of a kind bag from Buenos Aires. On Tina, it all managed to be perfect.

"So, how are you and your mom?" Tina asked, taking a bite of her yogurt and blueberries. She was always going for an healthy option.

"It was a disaster. She pulled me into a photo op again. Why is it it's hard for her to understand that nobody wants my picture?" Rachel almost screamed.

Tina and Quinn just looked at each other. They decided to shut up than talk because they didn't want to see the-Rachel-Berry-angry-face, and plus, they were tired talking about it. Rachel tried to break the awkward silence.

"How was California, Quinn?" Rachel asked gently. Quinn looked up at her then began talking.

"Awe-Some" Quinn said, shaking her head as she wolfed down her yogurt. "California is the most sunniest and perfect place on earth."

"Was your dad okay about it?" Tina asked.

"Of course. Since when did he even care about me?" Quinn said with a disappointed look.

Quinn's father, Russell Fabray, was a workaholic. He was also one of the richest man in the world. He owned almost all of the businesses in New York. Upper East Side Media, his empire of glossy lifestyle and fashion magazines, newspapers, social-networking sites, spanned continents and employed thousands of people. He was also famous for being one of the biggest philanthropists, donating millions to the poor, building schools, and fighting poverty. With his dashing looks and charismatic personality, Russell was one of the most eligible bachelors of New York. His wife, Judy, died giving birth to Quinn.

Most of the time, the two of them managed to get along. But Russell's impatience with his free-spirited daughter could set off a violent explosion the two of them and by the end of the school year, Quinn and Russell weren't speaking.

"How was your dad's philanthropy?," Tina asked Quinn

"Pretty good, I guess" Quinn shrugged.

"And how was your mom's tour?" Rachel asked Tina.

"Damn crazy," Tina sighed. "Thirty cities in forty-five days, I don't even know how she does that. By the ninth day, I was exhausted"

"Any Elle drama?" Quinn asked, getting to the point.

Tina rolled her eyes. "There was once a reporter on tour with us, doing his article on "Elle Cohen-Chang and her fabulous career" and he asked me how old my mom was. I told him the truth: thirty eight. And she freaked out like a lost child," Tina placed her empty carton into the trash can.

"Moral of the story? Never _ever_ talk to the press. Even they've been stalking you day and night."

Tina's mother, Elle Cohen-Chang, was a pop star. Her amazing and skilled voice made her a star at nineteen, and billionaire at twenty seven. Every year, she produced every album, with pop songs. She was also the youngest Grammy award winner. Tina's dad was a case in point. He'd been a back-up dancer for Elle in one of her tours-and then disappeared.

Tina and Elle's bond was fierce. They're like sisters, and Rachel admired it. Tina inherited her mother's looks, voice, fashion sense, and presence. Tina was about to record her own album. Tina's voice was soulful, slow, and smoky torch.

"Any cute dancers?" Quinn asked as they walked out of the street.

"Uh, no," Tina bent down her head. "They were all on the other team."

"Too bad." Quinn said, making a beeline for a jewelry stand set up on the street. "I was too assuming of hooking up on someone on California, even though this one guy was really hot." She said, holding up a pair of dangly coin earrings. "What do you think?"

"Cheap" Tina said.

"Do you really need them?" Rachel asked.

"Whatever. They're ten bucks," Quinn said, producing a bill from the back pocket of her shorts and handing it to the man in the Rastafarian cap behind the table. Despite her granola tendencies, Quinn liked to spend money. A lot.

" Hey, speaking of hot guys," Tina murmured. "Look at him."

Rachel turned and followed Tina's gaze. Walking out of the street, a tall guy, wearing striped shirt and jeans with IPod wires trailing from his ears, was a very hot guy. He was so cute that Rachel can only look at him in small glimpses. Large brown eyes. Chiseled face. Straight brown hair that was a little shaggy. Full pink lips.

"Oh my god" Quinn muttered. "Now that is one hot college guy."

But Rachel could tell he was younger than that. And then she realized something familiar about his walk. Slow. "Oh my god, "Rachel said when it hit her. "That's Finn Hudson"

"What?," Quinn asked, awestruck. " Your neighbor? That guy from your building?"

"Didn't he move to Ohio?" Tina asked. "Like, 4 years ago?"

"Maybe he's back for a visit" Quinn said. "Is that what happens when boys move to Ohio? They become total hotties?"

"Go say hi," Tina grabbed Rachel's arm and gave her a nudge

"Yeah, "Quinn seconded.

"Wait-by myself?"

"Well, you guys were BFF," Tina pointed out.

"Yeah, when we were _six,_" Rachel rolled her eyes.

As she watched her old friend reach the curb, she tried to wrap her brain around the fact that this was the same boy she'd bossed around, played with, once made cry. But whoever it was, she was just happy to be wearing a pretty dress and peep-toe heels, even if they did kill her feet.

She and Finn grew up together. They both trick-or-treated together, went skiing, played on the rain, or just pissing around with the neighbors. Finn's parent, Carole, married Burt and he became his step-father. Kurt, Rachel's friend since kindergarten, was his step-brother. Carole inherited all the money from Finn's father when he died. Finn's father was the head of an investment bank. They were rich and glamorous as Rachel's parents.

But Finn could be a little moody. Sometimes he'd disappear into his room , playing Xbox for hours, even when Rachel was at his house. He could also get his feelings hurt easily, in short, he's a very sensitive person. Like when Rachel poured his favorite kind of grape juice down the garbage disposal and he burst into tears. Rachel used to be taller than him, but now, Finn went from 5 foot to 6 foot and 3 inches. Rachel would not be able to boss around him anymore. In fifth grade, Finn went to a all-boys school, and started hanging out more with boys in class. And when he did see her, Finn acted weird. He'd ignore her or just passed to her by.

The next year, when Rachel and Finn were almost twelve, his family decided to move to Ohio. Rachel was, of course, relieved. No more awkward moments with Finn.

But then Finn did something really, really strange.

It was at the Hudson's going-away party. Rachel and Finn stood alone in the kitchen, while the guests were in the living room. None of them spoke. Silence was killing them. They were eating cheese cupcakes. That's when Finn suddenly grabbed her waist and pulled her next to him. Rachel felt Finn's damp lips softly pressed against her. Rachel was surprised but then kissed back. When it was over, both of them get the cupcakes that fell on the tile floor. Then Rachel's parents called her to say that they were leaving, and that was last time she ever saw his face. His parting-gift or souvenir to her was the first, sloppy, (yet amazing), first kiss.

She watched Finn come toward her, but didn't actually recognize her.

"Come on, you're gonna miss him!" Tina was shaking Rachel's arms so fast that it made her head spinning. "Go!"

Rachel took a nervous step forward on her heels. She limped toward him and was just a few feet away when Finn yanked his IPod wired out of his ears.

"Rachel?" he asked, a smirk began to form on his face. "Rachel Berry?"

She took a step forward to him. " Finn?," she asked. Pretending as if she haven't recognized him. " So, um, what's up?"

"Nothing interesting. How are you?" he asked. His permanent smirk was driving Rachel wild.

"Nothing much. What are you doing here?" her right leg started to shake like it did whenever she was nervous. "You were in Ohio, right?"

"Yeah. We were. We moved back" he replied. Looking down at his feet.

"You moved…back?" Rachel almost yelled.

"Yeah. My mom and Burt wanted too. Since Kurt got into NYU," he said, gesturing behind him toward the park, "so it seemed like the right time. We're moving back into the old building. You guys moved away, right?"

Rachel had sensed some disappointment on his voice. "Yeah, we moved to the west side. I think the building got annoyed with the photographers" Rachel giggled.

Finn smiled. "I'm sure I'll still be seeing you. Everyday probably" he said.

"What do you mean?"

He flicked a piece of hair out of his eyes. "I'm going to West Side High School with you"

Rachel couldn't even breathe. He's moving to her school? He'd been gone for four years, become alarmingly hot, and now she's gonna see him all day long?

"That's awesome," Rachel beamed at him. Hoping that he wouldn't recognize how fast her heart is beating.

"Hey guys," Finn approached Quinn and Tina. Rachel had been so distracted that she didn't recognize that her friends were standing on either side of her.

"How's Oh-i-o, Finn?" Quinn asked playfully.

"And how long are you gonna be here?" Tina inquired.

"Finn's moved back," Rachel announced. "And he's going to our school" Rachel looked down so that they won't notice her turning pink. Rachel slowly looked up to see her friends' reactions. Quinn looked flabbergasted while Tina was trying not to smile.

"Actually, I gotta go," Finn said to Rachel. He was oblivious to Quinn and Tina's reactions. "I'm meeting Kurt at his dorm," He quickly looked at Rachel. "Maybe you could be my tour guide tomorrow?" He asked.

Rachel nodded dumbly. "Sure."

"See ya." He waved at them, stuck the wires back in his ears then walked away.

The three of them stared at each other at silence. Then, Quinn spoke.

"Holy Mother of God," Quinn breathed. Tina and Rachel looked at her as if she forgotten that she's a Catholic. "I know that I must never say that since I'm a strong Catholic, but that just blurted out"

"He's going to our school?" Tina sputtered.

"You heard him"

"You guys are definitely gonna fall in love." Tina blurted out.

"What?"

"You heard me." Tina rolled her eyes.

"He asked you to be his tour guide," Tina said meaningfully.

"Because he's new." Rachel replied.

"Still, there were sparks, right, Quinn? I can see it the way he looks at you. He likes you" Hudson muttered.

"I almost caught on fire," Quinn winked.

"Maybe he's your soul mate!" Tina announced. Rachel sighed.

"OMG. Stop. Please." Rachel groaned.

"He is," Tina argued. "Don't you think Quinn?" Tina looked at Quinn. Tina was way to astrology and soul mates stuff.

"Okay. Let's cool it down," Quinn said, facing Rachel. "He was your first kiss, first boy best friend, he's hotter and cuter than Christian Bale, he asked you to be his tour guide, and he'd be going to our school," Quinn stopped for a moment of silence. "Yup. It's gonna happen"

For once, Rachel thought that maybe Tina was right. Unlike Tina, she wasn't really into astrology, but still, she did see the sparks between her and Finn.

"When's his birthday?" Tina asked.

"April 8"

"Hmmm," Tina thought carefully, then smiled. "Oh my god, Oh my god"

"Why?" Rachel asked.

"He's an Aries. You're a Sagittarius. You both have the fire element," Tina stopped. "Don't you know that Sagittarius' perfect match is Aries?" Tina asked lively.

"No." Rachel admitted. "But guys, nothing has ever happened,"

"Yet," Quinn said proudly. "Nothing has ever happened _yet_."

"Nothing will ever happen. I swear." Rachel announced.

"Oh, but it will," Quinn said knowingly as she slipped her new earrings. "Something will surely happen" Quinn winked then smiled. Then she took a step forward them and led the way to the mall.

**I AM DONE WITH THE FIRST CHAPTER:)**

**Reviews please! Reviews are love.**

**10 reviews= Next Chapter.**


	2. The Brats

**Hey peeps!**

**I now present you the Chapter 2 of Twists and Turns!**

**Disclaimer: No, if I own Glee, I will highlight Finchel.**

"His name's Finn Hudson. He's from Ohio. He's tall with brown hair and _really_ brown eyes."

Principal Figgins leaned back in his swivel chair, looking directly at Rachel, and cradled his almost white-haired head in his hands. "And what did he have for breakfast?" he asked dryly.

"Just to show him around," Rachel pointed out, trying her best not to blush. "I'm just trying to be helpful. Isn't that what's supposed to be?" she knew she was being totally obvious, but she couldn't even pretend to be casual about this.

"Is there any chance that your interest in Mr. Hudson is of the less…_altruistic_ variety?" Principal Figgins asked. He looked suspiciously at Rachel, raising his eyebrow that sent Rachel some chills in her body.

"No, of course not. We're good friends, Mr. Figgins," Rachel hedged.

"Then far be it from me to deny your need to help people," P. Figgins said, snapping forward in his chair and reaching for the cabinet below his desk. He pulled out two folders and dropped them on his desk. "All right, Miss Berry. Let's see if your schedules match-up."

As he bent his lanky frame over the files, Rachel took a minute to glance around his office. Nothing really had changed. The mantel above the fireplace was still crammed with old Christmas cards and photos from other students who probably graduated, and the taupe chenille couch was still worn at arms. The carpet was still hadn't replaced. West Side High School was one of the expensive schools in New York, but it's obvious that none of the tuition was going toward Mr. F's office, she thought.

"You both have the same English, Spanish, same world history, homeroom.." Mr. Figgins said, slapping the file closed. "He's all yours."

"Thanks Mr. Figgins," Rachel said, about to leave.

"Wait there, Miss Berry."

Rachel slowly turned around.

"I heard very impressive things about from the director at Writing Club," he said, taking a sip from a cup o takeout coffee. "He said that you won a special award."

"For being the youngest one there."

"For Most Promising." He said with a smile on his face. "And for that reason, I hope you'll submit something to the fiction contest this year. I think you have a good chance of winning. You're one of our best writers and singers here." He smiled gently. "Of course, no pressure."

Of all the faculty staff at WSHS, Mr. Figgins was her avid supporter. Ever since her eight-grade teacher, Miss Maple, had shown him a story Rachel had written for the literary magazine.

"I can show you something this week," she said. "Maybe get your feedback?"

P. Figgins nodded. "I'll look forward to it. Now go tour Mr. Hudson around."

Rachel smiled before she took her step out of his office. Her heart pounded, but whether it was from P. Figgins' pep talk about Finn Hudson or the writing contest, she wasn't sure. Somehow, it's hard to believe that P. Figgins thought she was a talent. Maybe she'll take that as an inspiration.

In the hall, people waved her hello and stopped her for the first-day welcome-back hugs. But she kept moving. She'd gotten up a little early to straighten her hair with her mother's blow dryer.

She checked her English room, no Finn. He wasn't in the lounge. She was on her way to check the lockers when she saw a tall guy looking at the bulletin board. He was wearing a striped shirt and jeans, with his backpack on his arm. His hair was shaggy and brown. Yup, it was him.

She tapped him on his shoulder. "Hello there."

When Finn turned around, any and all composure she managed to achieve instantly melted. "Hey, tour guide," he said with smile lighting up his face. "How are you?"

"You got your wish," she said

"I just hope you're not a bad influence," he said, grinning. "Like before." she felt the blood rise to her cheeks, and her stomach churn. She prayed that she didn't throw up.

"What do you mean, _before?"_ she asked, trying not to stare at his perfect white teeth.

"You were always the one who wanted to throw water balloons with neighbors," he said. "You practically got my family thrown out of the building after we hit the doorman."

Rachel looked at Finn anxiously. Did he really think she was a bad influence?

"But you liked it," she argued. "I was just trying to make you happy."

"Well, you _made_ me," he argued back. Then he looked her up and down as if he were seeing her for the first time. "But now, I'm finally taller than you so you can't boss me anymore."

"Don't be so sure," Rachel said. She cast her gaze down to his black shoes. She needed a break from those lovely and piercing brown eyes. "Let me see your schedule."

She watched him open his backpack. As he was going to reach for his folders, Rachel saw a piece of paper folded to Finn's fingers. Finn was gonna put back the paper away but Rachel already snatched the paper from him.

"Hey, give it back," Finn said.

Rachel looked at him suspiciously and rolled her eyes. She slowly opened the paper, only to find that it was his grades. Rachel studied it carefully; she noticed almost all of his failing grades.

"Wow, you really flunked English." Rachel said.

"Wow, as if it's your first time to know that," Finn groaned.

"Why did you flunk English?" Rachel asked, looking at his brown eyes.

"Projects. Tons of projects that I failed. It was either about making your own story or making an essay," Finn rolled his eyes. "I'm pretty sure I was the most hated English student there by Miss Lockwood."

Rachel stared at Finn curiously. She knows what she need to do.

"I can help you with your writing," she said. "There will be tons of projects on English about making stories too, I think. So you'll need my help." She offered. Finn was looking at her with his eyes straight at her. Rachel can't even look back. After seconds of eyes locking, He smiled. Finally.

"That will be awesome." He chuckled.

"Ok, now please let me see your schedu-," Rachel didn't even finish what she was supposed to say.

"Finn? Oh My God!"

As Finn and Rachel turned around, there was, Santana Lopez.

Santana Lopez stepped her Pilates-toned body past Rachel as if she weren't even there and threw her arms around Finn's neck. "I heard you moved back," she cooed with her flirtatious voice. "It's _soooo_ good to see you."

As usual, Santana looked like she's spent hours getting ready for school. Her perfectly-shaped auburn ringlets were pulled back with a jeweled barrette, her brows were plucked into neat tadpoles, and her fingernails were French manicured. Just looking at her can be exhausting. It had probably taken weeks for her to get that all groomed. But Rachel secretly wished she could be the same way.

"Hey, Santana," Finn said, pleasant but cautious, returning the hug. "Good to see you."

"So you moved to Ohio," Santana said, tipping her head and batting her saucer-shaped brown eyes. "What happened? Did you miss being around girls with good teeth?, Why did you get back here?" She giggled and swung her Herve Chapelier shoulder bag up her arm.

"Well, my parents made us move," he said. "We moved back here because Kurt just gotten a scholarship to NYU. He was among the 20 people around the world who gotten a scholarship there at the age of 17." He stopped. "Any yeah, I guess you could say girls here have, uh, better teeth," he said with a resigned voice. "Or whatever."

"Of course they do!" Santana said, playing with her diamond S that she always wore around her neck. "I'm sure they're going to miss you."

Finn just blushed and looked down at the floor.

There was something Santana excelled besides grooming, and that was socializing. Santana Lopez was probably the most confident girl Rachel had ever seen. She had been that way since third grade, and her constant socializing-and flirting-had propelled her to the top of New York private school food chain. There wasn't a single party she didn't get invited, a charity committee she didn't oversee, and a guy she couldn't talk to- usually to stunning results. True, she was pretty, with her toned runner's legs, carefully styled hair, and smoking body. She was declared by Jacob Ben Israel (the school's Perez Hilton) for having the biggest boobs at WSHS, courtesy of her boob job that she took last summer. But it was her snobby and plastic personality that Rachel, Quinn, Tina, or probably the whole school hated.

" Oh, hey!" Santana, or the "Satan" on which Rachel, Quinn, and Tina used to call her at her back, exclaimed, acknowledging Rachel's presence. "I'm so rude!, how was your summer, Rachel?"

"Great," Rachel said through a gritted smile. "How was yours?"

"Oh, as usual, tennis camp in Florida, riding camp in Bedford, and then just lying out in Southampton…wait!" she looked back at Finn. "We should all have lunch together. When's your lunch period?"

"I don't know, is it there?" Finn asked Rachel.

Rachel wanted to mention that it had been years since she and Santana had eaten lunch together, but she looked back down at his schedule. "Eleven forty-five," she said.

"Oh, I'm twelve-thirty," Santana said disappointedly, tossing one of her curls. "Whatever. You'll just have to come over after school sometime this week so we can catch up."

"Sure," Finn said with an appreciative smile. "That'd be great."

Rachel felt her stomach sink. She knew for the fact that Santana had barely known Finn before he moved away- he definitely hadn't been one of the popular guys at school. Now, just because he gotten all cute and handsome, she was going to pretend that they were old buddies. And flirt with him. Yuck.

The bell rang, signaling five minutes until homeroom.

"Oh, hey guys," Santana said, as her four best buddies- Brittany Pierce, Rae Stevenson, Adrianne Hein and Tiara Marcus-came to stand in their usual protective circle around her. "Say hi to Finn Hudson."

Brittany, Rae, Adrianne, and Tiara each gave Finn a smile. Brittany was the prettiest of the three, with golden curls and long curled eyelashes. She was also the nicest and well, clueless of the three. Rae also has blond hair, with hazel eyes and tanned body. Adrianne was a brunette and the tallest of them. Tiara was a redhead with bright blue eyes. Rachel, Quinn, and Tina used to call Brittany, Rae, Adrianne, Tiara and Santana the Brats, by using their first letter of their names. Around Brittany, The Brats were generally harmless. Brittany was bubbly and clueless. Rachel remembered the time when they were in fifth grade, when Brittany said to her, "When I pulled my hamstring, I went to a misogynist." And now, Rachel heard her saying to Tiara, "Guess who I'm dating? Wes Brody. He's super cute. He plays soccer with my sister. He's seven."

But without Brittany, they could be ruthlessly mean. Nothing and nobody was safe. Their preferred target was usually Rachel, Quinn and Tina. The three of them weren't sure how the hell they'd become the Brats' Number One Enemy, but the only thing they could come up with was their parents. Like some other girls in the class, the Brats seemed to assume Rachel and her friends were wildly conceited-no matter how hard they prove otherwise. The nicer they acted toward them, the meaner the Brats were in return. Rachel sometimes thought that if her mother had been a murderer instead of a supermodel, the Brats would have acted nicer to them. Only Quinn sometimes escaped their wrath. Her dad's extreme wealth, and fondness of New York social circuit, mean that Quinn had one foot in Santana's world of invitation-only charity dances and Hamptons polo matches.

"Hey guys, " Finn said, greeting each of them. "You all know Rachel, right?"

The Brats glanced at Rachel with distaste. "Hi," Brittany chirped.

"Nice Tan." Rae said, looking at Rachel's legs. Adrianne and Tiara giggled.

"Hey, Rae, and Brittany," Rachel said curtly. She looked over at Finn to see if he'd picked up their laugh, but his eyes were on Santana and her unbuttoned-just-a-bit-too-low shirt.

"Well, we gotta go," Santana said. "I'll text you later and I mean it, let's totally hang-out, okay?" she said, putting a hand on Finn's arm. "Oh, and Rachel, good to see you!"

With a quick wave, the Brats turned to go, sashaying their butts down the hall. Finn stared at the back of Santana's rolled-up kilt, swinging from side to side, until it disappeared around the corner. "She's nice." Rachel said.

"Yeah, " Finn answered, turning toward her. His face looked a little vacant, as if his mind was still somewhere else. "She's a cool girl."

Did Finn really think that a cool girl was someone who knew the entire city and threw parties? Or a girl who loved singing and wanted to be a Broadway singer, Model, Writer at the same time?

She led him down the hall toward the open homeroom door. "We're right in here," she said, leading the way inside.

As they walked together, twenty pairs of eyes watched them weave their way through the desks. _Yes,_ Rachel thought. _ Finn Hudson is going to be a very big deal in this school_. Even Quinn and Tina were staring.

"Want to sit here?" Finn asked, pointing the two empty desks. As she nodded and sat down beside him, she caught a glimpse of her friends' excited smiles. Quinn even mouthed "Holy Crap" to Tina.

Rachel rolled her eyes back at them, hoping they'd get the message to stop gawking at them. But she felt a telltale blush creep across her face. From the butterflies dancing around her stomach and the way she almost felt dizzy, she knew she'd already reached the Crush Point of No Return.

He leaned over toward her, so close that she could smell his mint toothpaste. And worse, in every second, their lips _might_ meet. "You're with me all day, right?" he asked with a smirk.

Rachel gulped. "Uh-huh," she managed to say.

_Oh my God,_ she thought, looking down at her desk. There was no way she was going to make it until three-thirty.

**Done with the second chapter:)**

**Note: Please Review:)**

**10 REVIEWS= Next Chapter.**

**SOME TIDBITS ABOUT THE NEXT CHAPTER:**

**-Finn will be inviting Rachel to his party and he invited her first and early. Alone time. Whoosh., but the party will be happening on Chapter 8.**

**-Meet Tina's ultimate fan (so close to stalker) **

**There will be more drama on the later chapters. There will be something happening about Rachel and Shelby, which will turn Rachel to a …..*secret***

**This story will probably have 25-30 chapters:)**


	3. Sparks Fly

**Hey guys!**

**Thanks for the awesome reviews you gave to me:)**

**I updated too fast because of the sudden 10 reviews I received xD**

**Note: Italics are either flashbacks or thoughts.**

**Disclaimer: No, I don't own Glee.**

**This chapter is kinda short.**

_Tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut._

The last page came rolling out of this printer into the tray, and Rachel scooped up all the twelve pages in her hands. She still didn't have a title of her own story, and she wasn't sure of the ending, but she was proud of it. Maybe this would be the one she'd submit to the story writing contest. She hoped P. Figgins would think so, too.

The main characters were familiar: a weird teenage girl in the shadow of her gorgeous actress-mother decides to get her hair to cut just like her, with disastrous results. The girl then ends up realizing she actually likes her hair, and wishes she hadn't done it. Anyone who read the story, and knew who'd written it, would know exactly what-and who- it was really about. But Rachel's real self, complete with her secret thoughts and feelings, always crept into her stories. She couldn't help it. Mr. Figgins was always telling her that the best writing came from personal experiences, anyway. "Only by being yourself can you be more than yourself," He always says whenever he read her drafts. Still, it was still embarrassing to be exposed like that. Even though there was a certain relief when her characters dealt with something that bothered her. It was almost as if she'd dealt with it, too.

For the past weeks, Rachel had been helping Finn on English. She was right, their English teacher, Miss Harding, had given them a project about making stories. Rachel did the best as she can to help Finn, teaching him big words, guiding him how to make your own stories, and stuffs like that. Finn passed the project, much of his regards to Rachel. Miss Harding even announced that Finn's story was the best.

_Last week.._

_Rachel and Finn were in the library, Rachel was teaching and guiding Finn to the story project._

"_So, I hope you already have ideas for your project. Do you even have one?" Rachel asked, sipping her drink. It is kinda obvious by Finn's expression that he hadn't got any story plot ideas yet._

"_Of course, I have." Finn replied glumly._

"_Can I see it? What is it all about? I bet it is about football, sports cars, etcetera, etcetera," Rachel laughed abruptly. _

"_No, of course not. I'm not stupid and gullible as you still think," Finn said with a smile. Rachel gulped for her loss of words. She never ever thought about that to Finn_

"_I doubt that you know what gullible means. So what's your story about?" Rachel asked, again._

"_I-uh, it's a secret. For now. I don't wanna tell it." Finn bent his head down._

"_Okay..So let me teach you some of the new big words I just found on the Internet."_

_End of Flashback._

As Rachel walked back to her spot In the computer lab, she heard Adrianne, Tiara, and Rae giggling across the aisle. _Whatever,_ Rachel thought as she sat down and opened her E-mail. They'd been doing this all day, and she knew why. Finn was still hanging around her, four days later, it was clear that he didn't need a tour guide anymore. He spent his day playing football with Puck, Sam, and his other football buddies. Quinn and Tina, naturally, were convinced that Finn had an insane crush on her. Rachel didn't know, but the idea that Finn might actually be into her was way to exciting, and possibly a jinx. Things like that just didn't happen to her. As for the Brats, Finn's attention just seemed to be another reason to send dome obnoxiousness in Rachel's direction. Why she needed to feel self-conscious about a good-looking guy following her around, Rachel wasn't sure, but the Brats, any chance to make her feel self-conscious was apparently worth it.

As she read her e-mail, the giggles got louder. She was just about to say something when she heard someone say, "Hey, Rachel."

Lizzie looked up. Mercedes Jones, with her friend, Artie, who was on a wheel chair, stood beside her in the aisle, her gigantic backpack strapped to both shoulders and the loose hair from her ponytail standing on end around her face. She was black, with big curves and big voice. As usual, her brown, deep eyes didn't blink.

"Hey, Mercedes, and Artie," Rachel hadn't really been friends with Mercedes, but she was friends with Artie back when they were kids. Artie was the fastest kid runner on school back then. They became friends when Artie defended her from Karofsky and Azimio, the school bullies. Rachel had known the fact that Artie has a massive crush on Tina. She remembered the times when she was with Artie, and his mouth keeps babbling about how Tina's voice was awesome, how her hair is so shiny, how her clothes are awesome, and so on and so forth.

"So I saw Tina on _E!_ Last week," Mercedes said, launching right into her favorite subject. "They were doing this thing on celebrity children style. How does she look like that? Does she have a personal stylist? Or does she find all those things by herself? What do you think? What do you know?"

Rachel sighed. She knew that Mercedes has a stupendous admiration about Tina. She was Tina's ultimate fan. Every time they passed each other's way, Mercedes usually talked about how cool Tina was. She remembered the time when it was Mercedes' tenth birthday party. Rachel, Quinn and Tina were invited. When Mercedes saw Tina in their living room, where Tina greeted her Happy Birthday, Mercedes fainted. There was also the time when Mercedes took Rachel to her room. At first sight, it made Rachel wanted to run off and get eaten by a lion rather than seeing her room. Mercedes' room was full of Tina's posters in magazines, photo shoots, and even pics with her mother. She even made a collage full of Tina's close-up face.

Rachel's thoughts were flying way too much that she forgotten that she was having a conversation with Mercedes.

"Um, I'm not really sure," Rachel mumbled.

"I saw her mom this summer," Mercedes went on, undeterred. "In concert. Oh My God, she was so a-ma-zing. They said the Tina's making her own album. Is it true? Do you think she'd let me hear a song? What's her music like? Is she gonna be on _American Idol?_"

She stepped closer. Rachel prayed for a stun gun.

"Um, I don't know," said Rachel, turning back on her computer and starting to type a little. "Actually, she's pretty private about that stuff."_ Help, _she thought.

"Do you think she'd ever take me to shopping?" Mercedes persisted, stepping even closer. "She has such a great style-"

"Hey, is this seat taken?"

Rachel almost cried of joy when she saw Finn walk up behind Mercedes. "Nope!" she chirped, pulling her book bag off the chair next to her.

"I'm Finn," he told Mercedes as he moved past her.

"This is Mercedes Jones and Artie Abrams," Rachel said. Pointing at Mercedes and Artie, who was both smiling at him.

"Hey," he said. As he sat down next to her, Rachel felt her stomach turn into a Slinky.

"Well, tell Tina me and Artie said hi," Mercedes said, clearly petrified by Finn, before pushing Artie out of the computer lab.

"What was that all about?" Finn asked her as he logged on to his e-mail.

"Oh, nothing. She's just Tina's stalker."

"What?" he asked, staring at her.

"She tries to be her friend, in a huge way," Rachel explained. "Tina's so nice to her. But it kinda creeps me out." Rachel felt guilty even explaining it.

"Well, you seemed like you were being really nice to her," he said reassuringly. "That's the only thing you can do."

As he typed in his password, Rachel snuck a sideways glance at him. Finn was so different from the other guys in class. He was so sweet and naïve. While Noah Puckerman , Dave Karofsky, and Azimio drew attention to themselves in class with pranks and jokes, Finn had a calmness to him that made him more attractive. Somehow, that quiet, sensitive kid who'd followed her around their old building had turned into a funny, humble, and down-to-earth guy. Who also happened to be gorgeous.

"Hey, what's that?" he asked, pointing to the story she'd turned upside-down.

"Oh, just something that I wrote."

Finn picked it up and turned it around. "Can I read it?"

Rachel paused. She'd never given to a boy-much less a guy she liked- one of her own stories. But right now, his interest was so exciting that she couldn't think of a reason not to give it to him. "On one condition," she said. "Promise you'll let me read the story that you did?"

"Only after I read this," Finn countered with a smile. "Just so I know what I'm up against."

Across the aisle, Rachel saw Adrianne, Tiara, and Rae's eyes fixed on the two of them hungrily. She looked back at him quickly. "Sure," she said, even more nervous now that she knew they were being watched.

"Oh, let me ask you something" he said, leaning closer to her that their elbows bumped. Her heart did a somersault. "If I had a party Saturday night, do you think people will come?"

Rachel blinked. "Uh, yeah. Of course. I think so." She said, pretending she wasn't sure.

"Good, because I'll have the place to myself," he said. "Burt, my step-dad, will be in Southampton with my mom." He gave her a cautious look.

"Why will they go to Southampton?" Rachel pretended she was interested.

"I don't really know, maybe they'll have a vacation there or something," Finn replied sadly. "I hardly ever see them."

Rachel felt herself blush as she stared at the computer mouse. She felt bad that she was hearing this. She shouldn't have asked that stupid question. She felt bad that she lacks some attention from his parents.

"They didn't even spend time with you?" Rachel asked in a concerned voice.

"No, they spend some time with me. But it's just not enough."

She felt an overwhelming urge to cover his hand with her own.

"So back with the party topic," Finn laughed. "Maybe you can come over early and help me set up? There will be no people there. Just us. So we can arrange things more faster." He gave her a crooked smile.

Her heart felt like it might leap out of her chest. His words gave her chills over her body, especially when he said "Just us". "I'd love to," she said.

"Cool." He stood up and slung his backpack over his shoulder.

He wanted her to come _early_. Her mind reeled.

He leaned down and grabbed her story. "Don't worry. For my eyes only."

"It better be, Finn Hudson," she managed to say, Just as Santana Lopez glided through the doors of the computer lab. Her brown curls bounced on her shoulders, and her diamond S necklace glinted in the fluorescent light like a weapon. "I just heard about the party-I'm so psyched! I would have had one but my parent's aren't going to the country this weekend. So annoying." She wrinkled her nose and pulled her vanilla colored handbag further up her arm. "Can I do anything? Bring over some music? I just made the most amazing playlist."

Finn took a step backward toward the door. "No, I think I'm all set. Just bring your people."

"Oh, don't ever worry, I will." She winked at him.

Finn looked at Rachel and waved just before he ambled slowly out of the lab.

Santana turned around. "Oh, hey Rachel," she said, much less enthusiasm. "You going to Finn's?" she sat down in Finn's vacated seat. Across the aisle, Rachel could feel Adrianna, Rae, and Tiara watching, and somehow glaring at them.

"Yup," she said, standing up and packing her bag. "Finn and I go way back, actually. We've been good friends since we were kids."

Santana was too busy logging onto her e-mail to get the dig. "Oh, right," she said distractedly. "See ya later."

As Rachel walked to the door, she almost had to pinch herself. He'd invited her over to his house. Before everyone else. He'd confided in her about his parents. He'd taken her story to read, _and he'd invited her over to his house, before everyone else._

Was there..sparks?

Could this really be happening? Was this what she thought it might be? Could she and Finn really be, well…a thing?

She couldn't wait to tell Quinn and Tina. They are totally gonna be either psyched or freaked out. With just a few minutes before the bell, she raced to the hall. They'd know what this meant.

**Chapter three: done.**

**10 Reviews= Next Chapter.**

**Some tidbits about Chapter 4:**

**-The drama of Shelby and Rachel will be in Chapter 4. Where Rachel will do something that might ruin her relationship with Shelby.**

**-There will be more Rachel and Shelby on Chapter 4.**

**Thank you:)**


	4. Fashion Week

**I'm baaaaaaaack:)**

**Here is Chapter Four!**

**Disclaimer: .No. I don't own Glee.**

**~Finchel~**

Rachel was still thinking about Finn the following night, as her town car inched its way down Forty-Second Street. Even in the gathering dusk, she could make out the edge of the massive white tent in the middle of Bryant Park, lined by tall skinny plane trees. While a million fourteen-year old girls would probably kill to be going to see a show at Fashion Week-on a school night, no less-walking into the tents with her mom always made Rachel a little nervous. And tonight would be even crazier than usual. This would be the fashion world's first glimpse of Broadmodels, and her mom made sure to amass as especially high-profile crowd for the runway show.

For right now, she still had extra minutes to think about Finn's party. It was still two nights away. Quinn and Tina were convinced that It was a date. "I called it!" Quinn cried when she heard the news.

Tina immediately went online to check the astrological prediction for Saturday night. "Mars is in Cancer! That means you two are _totally_ gonna hook-up!"

Rachel wasn't sure about that, but Quinn and Tina's excitement only added up her own.

"Okay, we're here." Shelby said beside her, into her slim black phone. "Wish me luck, honey. See you soon." Shelby slipped her phone back to her tiny silk clutch. "You're father said he's going to try to make it to the after-party," she said to Rachel. "But he's running late with his deadline."

Tonight her mother looked even more breathtaking than usual in a clingy purple halter dress that showed off her cleavage and toned shoulders. Her brunette hair had been artfully piled into a messy, chic knot, and her expertly applied fake eyelashes looked like delicate black spiders clinging to her lids. _How on earth am I related to this person?_ Rachel thought.

Shelby patted Rachel's hand. "You look great, sweetie"

"Thank you, mom." Rachel fibbed. She didn't feel great. Her strapless Trina Turk dress pulled tightly across her hips, while the straps of her mom's spiked-heeled Manolos dug into the flesh of her toes. Plus, her updo felt more like a beehive. As the car traveled another few feet in traffic, she decided to finally ask the question she'd wanted to ask for weeks. "So, mom…you're not gonna make me pose with you, right?"

Shelby gave her a quizzical look as she pulled out a jeweled compact, "Well, you're my date, remember?" she asked, popping it open and checking her lipstick.

"I just would rather be in the background for this. Maybe I can just meet you inside at the seats?" Rachel asked hopefully.

"But how will you find me?" Shelby frowned slightly as she squeezed a pint sized drop of Chanel lip-gloss onto her finger and patted it into her lips. "You used to love Fashion Week."

"Yes," Rachel said. "It's just so intense."

The car came to stop. "This is as far as I can go." Announced the driver.

"Okay, we'll get out of here." Shelby said.

"Mom? Is that cool?" Rachel pressed.

"Fine, Rachel." Shelby said hastily, Rachel followed her out into the steamy September twilight. It was so humid that her strapless dress stuck to her back. For a few minutes they walked unnoticed past the crowds lining the steps into the tent. Assistants wearing black Seventh on Six T-shirts and ID's around their necks scurried back and forth. Up ahead, just inside the doors, Rachel could see flashes from the paparazzi's cameras like lightning. Suddenly, she wanted to be back her room, videochatting with Tina and Quinn.

Suddenly, a young blond guy wearing a black Seventh on Six T-shirt and ID, a hassled expression rushed up to them.

"Shelby? I'm Mark, I'll be escorting you inside," he said, waving them past the first round of security guards in front of the steps.

They followed him up the steps and into the main lobby of the tent. A frigid blast of air-conditioning sent goose bumps along Rachel's skin. Ahead of her, she could see the snaking lines of people- non-celebrities- waiting to get into the two different runway rooms. Several leggy girls hawked free copies of _Women's Wear Daily_ and booths set up around the room advertised of different sponsors-bottled water, sunglasses, watches. The noise inside was deafening. It reminded her of the time her dad took her to see a Giants game-the tangle of people all trying to squeeze into one line at their section of seats. At least she had finally gotten up the nerve to ask her mom to let her sit it all out.

She was bout to ask Mark to lead her to their seats when a flash of light popped right in their faces.

"Shelby!" someone yelled. A moment later, they were surrounded. A fleet of paparazzi closed in around them, screaming at them, snapping at their pictures. _Clickety- click-click. Clickety-click-click. Clickety-click-click._

"Shelby! Who are you wearing?"

"Shelby! Why lingerie?"

"Shelby! Will you be modeling it?"

"Shelby! Over here, over here!"

"SHELBY!"

The cameras were so close that Rachel and Shelby couldn't move. Mark tried to clear the path for them but it was impossible.

"Shelby! Shelby! Shelby!" they yelled.

Rachel teetered on her heels while in front of her, Shelby struck her favorite pose, shoulders thrown back, hand on hip, brilliant smile. The crush of the cameras and the din of the screams could have sent anyone in their right mind running back out to Bryant Park, but Shelby was used to this. In fact, this was why they were here.

Rachel reached into her bag and let her fingers close behind her phone. She had a desperate urge to text Quinn and Tina, and have them take her mind off this ambush. And then, her mother turned around, "Honey!" she called out with the same fake smile on her face. "Come here!"

Rachel watched, dumbfounded, as Shelby held out her arm and waved to her, just like she had a few days ago. "Come up here! Take a picture with me!"

Rachel froze. Why was her mother doing this? Hadn't she just said Rachel could skip this?

"Honey!" Shelby yelled. "Come on!"

Rachel gulped. Had her mom already forgotten what they'd talk about in the car? She stepped forward as Shelby reached for her and pulled her in closer, until she had her arm around her.

The flashes were binding. Rachel tried to smile, but her jaw was locked so tight it felt like a grimace.

"Smile," Shelby whispered. Rachel wanted to shove her way, but she couldn't. it was official, she thought. Her mother wasn't oblivious. She was selfish. She'd decided to ignore everything Rachel had said.

"Thank you." Shelby said into the stream of flashes. "Thank you."

"Shelby, we have some reporters waiting for you." Mark yelled into Shelby's ear, taking her by the elbow. She nodded, and he led her over the press area, where several television crews waited to interview her.

"Congratulations on your new line, Shelby!" said a reporter, aiming his tape recorder to Shelby's mouth. "What made you decide on lingerie?"

Her mother pointed to her ample chest. "What do you think?" she asked in her sultriest voice.

Rachel grabbed a free bottle of Voss water from a nearby booth and tried to think past her anger. Why had her mom done that to her?

She sipped some water and moved out the way of another frigid stream of air from one of the vets. The pack of photographers at the doors had moved on to someone else now, a starlet known for losing a dress size every season. Rachel watched her try to keep her cool as the paparazzi engulfed her tiny frame.

At last, they were on the move again. Mark began walking them toward the main exhibition space. "Shelby incoming," he said in a deadly serious voice. "Shelby incoming."

Then, a small, muscular man with platinum buzzcut and large liquid brown eyes stepped out of the chaos. He wore torn black jeans and a t-shirt with an image of an American flag pocked with a bullet marks, and his eyes had a wired and jittery look to them. "Shelby, _darling!_" he cried, flinging his arms around her mother as if she had just survived an earthquake.

It was Mickey Moran. As he and Shelby embraced, paparazzi shoved each other to capture the moment. A shot of the world's most famous supermodel hugging the world's most famous fashion designer was worth a lot of money.

"Mickey!" Shelby said, kissing him in both cheeks. "Thank you for coming. I know you have your show tomorrow so I appreciate your visit."

"Not a word, darling," he replied, grasping her hand in his. "I don't sleep starting in July, so I've got it all under control."

Rachel stared at him, starstruck despite her anger. Mickey Moran wasn't just a designer- he was THE designer. A Mickey Moran dress was the holy grail of fashion. His ad campaigns were deliberately edgy, with a simple photo of a girl sitting against the wall, wearing one of his designs, hardly showing them off. But the girl was never just a girl. She was a mysterious combination of cool and beautiful and Mickey Moran state of mind- which seemed to involve being effortlessly chic and rebellious at the same time. Mickey Moran supposedly handpicked her himself each year, and then designed his collection with her.

Shelby and Mickey had worked together once or twice, but were mostly just good friends.

"Darling, just go there and _kill_," Mickey advised. "You'll be divine."

"Thanks, love." Her mom said. "And you remember my daughter, Rachel."

Mickey's restless eyes traveled over Rachel's face but only touched down for an instant. "Of course," he said, leaning in to give Rachel a perfunctory kiss on the cheek.

"Hi," she said, smiling politely. He never really remembered her.

"Thanks for coming again." Shelby said.

"Love Love.." Mickey said, the same way someone else might say "Bye Bye" and then he was gone.

"Mom," she started, wanting to ask her mom if she could wait to sit down, but there was a push of the crowd behind them, and before Rachel knew it, they were both inside the main exhibition space. The plastic-covered runway seemed to stretch a mile down the center of the room. The air smelled spicy and sweet from all the perfumes. Hundreds of editors, writers, photographers, actresses, celebrities and rock stars socialized from their seats, filling the usual half-hour of waiting time. As the assistant led way toward the front row, Rachel could see heads all across the room turn to gawk at them.

"Uh, Mom," Rachel began, but Shelby was already chatting with a dreadlocked singer who'd written a song about her once. Rachel had no choice but to shimmy sideways to the two empty gold chairs at the far end of the front row.

She dropped into her seat. Now she was trapped. And she knew what was coming.

"Couldn't I have just skipped this?" she asked her mom when she finally sat down.

Shelby gazed at her questioningly, her brown eyes brilliant in the light. "Oh, honey. It won't be that bad. I think it's going well." Even this close, her mother's skin didn't have a pore. She patted Rachel's knee. "Just don't forget to smile."

And then, as if on cue, they were surrounded again. The photographers hovered like locusts, flashing and clicking, their lenses just inches away from them, screaming more questions at her mom.

"_How do you stay in such great shape?"_

"_How do you juggle career with family?"_

"_Who was the inspiration for your designs?"_

Calmly and slowly, Shelby answered them one-by-one. But Rachel felt the onset of a full-blown anxiety attack. With her head bent, she fumbled in her bag for her phone. Now she really needed to text Quinn and Tina…

"Hey!" a voice called.

She looked up to see the foam-covered dome of a microphone in her face. On the other side of it was a man wearing pancake makeup and eyeliner. An entertainment reporter. Behind him another man stood with the video camera on his shoulder.

"Are you the daughter of Shelby Corcoran?" the reporter asked.

Rachel nodded dumbly.

"So what's it like to have the hottest supermodel in the world as your mom?" he asked breathlessly. He thrust the mic back at her face.

Rachel stared at it. She couldn't think of all the sudden.

"Is it fun having a mom who's a supermodel?" he asked the same hyper-enthusiastic tone. "And what do you think of her clothes?"

Rachel thought for a moment, staring at the microphone. She knew what she was supposed to say. _It's fun! It's cool! Her clothes are awesome!_

But was this really fun? Fun was walking through the streets with Quinn and Tina. Fun was wearing her favorite pair of ripped-up corduroy shorts and Old Navy flip-flops, and watching the kites dance in the sky while she sipped a Frappuccino. Fun was writing in her journal, or sitting at her computer, lost in thought, writing a story. Fun was petting her Persian cat, Micah, while lying in her bed.

Fun was _not_ squeezing into a dress that was a size too small and wearing heels that gave her blisters, and standing, frozen smile plastered on her face, next to the hottest woman in the world. Or having a gazillion of cameras in her face for minutes on end.

Or being ambushed by a man wearing more makeup than half the women in the room and his annoying questions.

"Actually, it kinda sucks." She blurted into the mic. "And I think her clothes are slutty."

The reporter's eyes were popped wide and his mouth dropped open. For back in his mouth, Rachel could see a gold filling. Seconds ticked by.

"I mean..it's cool," she corrected herself. "It's great! I was just kidding."

He just gaped at her. Clearly, it was too late to correct herself. Finally he tipped the mic back to his face, "What's your name again?" he asked.

She swallowed. This wasn't good. "It's Rachel."

"Rachel, well, I think we're done here. Thanks for sharing." He turned to his cameraman and signaled him that they are done.

Holy crap. The camera. She had almost forgotten. All of the things she said that were all bout offensive things towards her mother and her designs were all recorded.

"Wait a minute-"Rachel said.

Before she could finish what she was saying, the reporter and cameraman had stepped away, back into the swirling mass of people. A moment later, they were gone.

Rachel sat, completely paralyzed. Briefly, she thought of running after them, but she knew it was pointless. They were gone for good. And she had no idea who the hell they were.

"Thank you," she heard her mother say on her left to the photographers. "Thank you, very much."

Had her mother heard what she'd said? And had she really just said that?

As the cameras finally stopped, Shelby squeezed Rachel's arm. "Let's get this show on the road, huh?" she asked, grinning widely.

"Yeah," Rachel said weakly and faintly. She felt guilt and regret. Miraculously, she looked like she hadn't heard a thing.

A pounding remix of one of her favorite songs suddenly filled the space and the lights dimmed. More assistants appeared and pulled off the plastic from the runway. Anticipation crackled in the air. The moments before a show began usually gave Rachel chills, but this time, she was too panicked to pay attention. All she could hear was what she said to the reporter.

Shelby squeezed Rachel's hand in anticipation. "Here we go." She whispered.

Rachel tried to squeeze back. She has broken the golden rule she and her friends made. It was their rules of being a daughter of someone famous. Well, it was rule number sixth actually: Never talk to the press about your parents. But right now, she thinks it should be the big rule. It should have been number one.

What if those reporters release the tape of her bashing about her mom, on the media?

Rachel slowly thought of all the events that happened.

She had put down her mother.

In public.

To a reporter.

On video.

Now Rachel was _really _never coming to Fashion Week again.

~Finchel~

**Chapter Four: Done.**

**Please review:)**

**Some tidbits about Chapter 5:**

**-What if Rachel's mom and dad finds about the video?**

**I'm sorry if this chapter is a little short. **

**P.S: Please read my new one-shot story, "Forever Yours, Faithfully". And please review it:)**


	5. The Truth Came Out

**Hey peeps:)**

**Thank you so much for the reviews!**

**Anyways, here is Chapter 5!**

**Disclaimer: No. I don't own Glee.**

~Finchel~

"Rachel? Is that you? Dinner's here!" her father called from the kitchen.

"Be right there!" she called back, as she walked into the apartment with her heart in her mouth.

She was still shock, of course. After the show, she'd told her mom that she had homework to finish and run out of the tent, leaving her backstage surrounded by more reporters and a flock of fashionista friends. The twelve minute show passed by a blur. Her answer to the reporter pounded inside her head, blocking out the DJ's music. Instead of models coming down the runway posing, all she could see was the reporter's eyes popped wide, his' open mouth and his gold filling. Now, her Trina Turk dress was soaked from sweat, and she wished she could just take a shower, go to bed, and pretend this had never happened.

But she couldn't. There was a _tape _of her saying what she'd said. It was out there, loose in the world. Even though Shelby hadn't heard her, it was just a matter of time until she did, which meant she was going to have to tell her. Rachel's throat knotted up just as the thought of it.

She opened the door to her room, and felt the knot relax slightly. Her room always calmed her. She called it the Cloud because every color was either blue or white. The walls were painted the color of the sky, and the carpet was a luxurious white shag. Her desk was white, her MacBook was white, and even Micah, her Persian cat, looked like a big fluffy snowball curled on her white and blue tufted bedspread.

"Hi Mic," she said, sitting on the edge of the bed and unbuckling her sandals.

Micah, or as she called "Mic", raised his head and blinked sleepily. A lone tooth stuck out of his mouth and almost up his nose, giving him a surly, defiant air. She'd given him his name because of it. Rachel liked to imagine that he was the preeminent punk rock star of the cat world.

Mic went back to sleep, and she took out her iPhone. All the way home in the town car, she had been too panicked to text her friends. Now she thought she might call one of them.

"Rachel?" she heard her dad yell. "Food's getting cold!"

She put down her iPhone. She'd wait until after dinner. She changed into a T-shirt, skirt, and Havaianas, and when she walked out to kitchen her dad was doing a last polish on his columns with a red pencil. Takeout containers of steaming Thai food were spread out on the table in front of him.

"Got pad thai and duck skewers," he said, looking up to her. "And spring rolls. Nice and healthy, just the way you like." He said, chuckling.

From the time she started breathing, it had been obvious to everyone who knew Rachel actually did look like: her father. She and Hiram Berry had the same eyes and the same Jewish nose. They both had thick eyebrows (though his were furrier), full lips, and well- short height. When he married Shelby, the press dubbed them "Beauty and the Beast". But despite of his odd looks, Hiram Berry managed to get successful. He was a brilliant journalist, and had twice been a finalist for Pulitzer Prize. Plus, he'd married the most beautiful and hottest woman in the world (who happened to be a brilliant singer and has a good writing too). Rachel liked to think that she inherited her voice from Shelby and her writing skills from Hiram. When she was a kid, she used to participate and battle in singing competitions, which for the record; she won _all_ of the competitions. Rachel also inherited her dad's looks. But she didn't expect to marry someone gorgeous. Weird-looking girls usually didn't score the Brad Pitt look-a-likes of the world.

"So, how was the show?" her father asked her as she sat down.

"Great," she replied back, trying to sound upbeat. "Mom did an amazing job."

"I would have been there, but this column's not even close," he said, shaking his head. "And we have to leave for Paris in the morning. Those L'Ete people wouldn't budge. There's so much red tape at that company it's like talking to the Pentagon."

L'Ete, a French cosmetics company, was one of Shelby's biggest and best modeling contracts. Three times a year her mother flew to Paris to stand in an evening dress and heels in front of obvious landmarks like the Arc de Triomphe and the Eiffel Tower. As if wearing a certain kind of blush would automatically transport you to Paris.

"Would you rather I stayed home with you?" he asked. "Instead of Irma? I don't have to go."

"I'll be fine, Dad. Go. It'll be okay." Rachel grabbed a bite of spring rolls. If Shelby had heard what she'd said to that stupid reporter, maybe a nice long trip was exactly what they needed.

Suddenly, Rachel heard the front door burst open. "I'm home!" her mother called from the hall, and Rachel felt her stomach tighten again. _You're going to have to tell her" _she thought. _Tonight-before they leave_

"We're in here!" Hiram called out as Shelby burst through the swinging door.

"Guess what?" she asked, her chocolate eyes shining like an excited child's. In her dress and heels, she looked way stunning to be standing in their kitchen. "Nordstrom, Saks, and Neiman Marcus all placed orders. Isn't that incredible?" she stomped her feet on the ground. "And Bergdorf's, too. I can't believe it! I can't believe it!"

Shelby never got this excited about a modeling assignment. She was so excited that Rachel felt she's gonna barf when she tell her the bad news.

"Fantastic!" Hiram crowed. He stood up and gave his wife a vaguely paternal hug and a sweet kiss. The fifteen-year age difference between them came out whenever Hiram was proud of her. "I knew you could do it. Rachel said it was a great show."

Shelby kicked off her heels and sat down at the table. "The Paris stores are interested, too," she said. "I'll be meeting with them after the shoot with L'Ete. Of course, that means we might end up staying a little bit longer than a week." She said this last part to Rachel as she spooned a small heap of pad thai on her plate. Instead of following a certain diet, her mother simply ate three-quarters less than everyone else.

"That;s okay," Rachel said, straining to be nice. Seeing her mom was starting to make her angry again. "It was really a great show. Congratulations."

Shelby ate a small nibble of food. "Mickey Moran was there," she said to Hiram. "He said some things."

Rachel mowed her fork over her rice. "Mom?" she began, her fingers were trembling and her heart was pounding as she look at her plate. "There's something I need to tell you."

She felt Shelby's eyes on her, waiting.

"When we sat down, and the paparazzi came up to us, this guy, a reporter, kind of ambushed me, and he started asking me questions, and I think I said some stuff that came out of my mouth wrong."

Shelby didn't say anything, still looking down, she waited.

"It wasn't anything too bad, but I still thought I should-"

"I heard everything that you said, Rachel," her mother confessed. ""I heard the whole thing."

Rachel looked up. Her mother was staring at her plate, dragging a piece of tofu around with her fork.

Hiram looked up from his reading. "Heard what?" he asked absently.

"Rachel spoke to a reporter," her mother started, in a low voice. Rachel felt her heart skip a beat. "Things about me."

Her father put down his work. "What?" he asked.

"It just slipped out. I didn't mean it." I interrupted.

"_What _slipped out?" Hiram wanted to know.

Rachel paused and closed her eyes. _Please Mom, Don't tell him. _She thought.

"She said that she was sick of me," Shelby murmured. "And some other things." In an even lower voice she added, "On videotape."

"_What?"_ Hiram shrieked. "This was filmed?"

Shelby held up her cautionary hand. "I already spoke Natalie. It was a couple of guys from an English news channel, nothing really big. She's taking care of it." Shelby turned her stony glare back at Rachel's direction. Her eyes turned into a deep, furious black. "I'm just sorry that's how you feel, Rachel. I would have never asked you to come if I'd known that. And from now own, you don't have to come."

"Mom, I didn't do it on purpose," she argued, starting to get panicked and annoyed. "And I did ask you before we got there-"

"You're _sixteen years old," _her father broke in, his voice perilously close to a shout.

"Dad-"

"You should know better than that," he yelled, cutting her off. "She's your mother!"

"Don't you think I know that?" Rachel shot back, angrily. "Don't you think I deal with that every single day?"

Shelby and Hiram looked at her, startled.

"Do you think that's fun for me?" she went on. "Getting my picture taken with you? Being compared to you?"

Shelby stared at her,, aghast. Rachel was startled, too, but she couldn't take the two of them judging her. Not when they so clearly didn't care about her damn feelings.

"I asked you tonight in the car If I could just meet you inside!" she yelled, pointing accusingly towards to her mother's direction. "Remember? And you totally blew me off!"

"Rachel, don't be so overly dramatic-"

"Look at me! Do you think it's easy going to things like that with you? Why don't you get it? or do you just want to show everyone how great you look for having a sixteen-year-old daughter?"

Shelby's face went pale. Hiram rose to his feet. "Go to your room," he ordered. "Now!"

"Is that what it is, Mom? Am I just there to make you look good?" The words were bubbling up within her, from places she didn't even know existed.

"Well, I'm sorry, Rachel," Shelby said coolly. "I'm sorry that I've got you a good school and a beautiful apartment. I'm sorry I'm such a terrible mother."

"That's not what I'm saying. I'm just telling you it's hard! It's hard being around you!"

Shelby took a deep breath. "Maybe if you were more comfortable with yourself." She said. "If you didn't compare yourself…if you just accepted the fact-" Shelby stopped herself, as if she realized what she was about to say.

"That I'm ugly and you're beautiful?" Rachel asked her, her voice was trembling.

"Oh, Rachel," Shelby sighed, looking down at her lap. She was either unwilling or unable to look Rachel in the eye. And that was as good an answer to any.

Rachel's face was so hot that it felt her skin might sizzle off the bones.

She stood up, letting the legs of her chair screech painfully against the tile.

"Rachel," her dad said in a warning voice.

She ignored him.

She ran straight out of the room, into the hall. In one swift motion she pulled open the front door and slammed it behind her so hard the walls shook.

She bypassed the elevator and dashed into the stairwell. Flight after flight, she ran down the stairs, the sound of her steps echoing against the walls. At last, she felt like she might throw up, she stopped and leaned against the cool wall. The first sob came, and then she couldn't stop. She sat down on a step and threw her arms around her bare, stubbly knees, and feeling as sad and alone as if she'd never had parents at all, she cried.

~Finchel~

**Chapter Five: done.**

**Please review:)**

**I'm so, so, sorry if this chapter is short. But I assure you, next chapter will be LONG and FULL OF SURPRISES, so keep reviewing!**

**~Dweezy~**


	6. Ugly Modeling?

**Hey guys!**

**Here is CHAPTER 6!**

**Thanks for all the reviews, alerts, and favorites. All of you never failed me grinning from ear to ear when I read all of your awesome reviews, **

**You guys rock!**

**Disclaimer: No. I still don't own Glee.**

**~Finchel~**

After she collected herself, she took the elevator to the lobby and went to the Barnes and Noble on the corner. She read some books, sitting cross-legged on the floor of the fiction section, until she finished it. At ten o' clock, she tiptoed back into the apartment, on alert for a run-in, but her parents' bedroom door was closed. When she awoke the next morning, they were gone.

Now as she climbed the limestone steps of her school's main staircase, she felt unsettled and uneasy, as if she'd had a bad dream. She'd never screamed like that at her parents before-she'd never even come close. But even worse was what her mother had said. Every time she remembered Shelby's words-and the subtext underneath them-she felt a sharp pain under her chest. So her mother hadn't been oblivious after all.

It was all so painful and embarrassing that she felt she didn't have the guts to say about this to Quinn and Tina. At least being her at school, she could try to push last night out of her mind.

When she walked into the homeroom, Tina and Quinn were sitting in their usual spot, in the desks by the blackboard, but both of them, instead of looking cheerful and damn happy, they both looked upset. Quinn had her tin of Carmex out, and rubbing it onto her lips, which was always a sign that she was stressed about something.

"Are you guys okay?" Rachel asked, looking around quickly for Finn.

Quinn's suntanned face instantly became a little pale. "Something just happened," she muttered. "Something just _bad _happened." Rachel could see that she was holding her iPhone.

"What?"

"Not here," Tina said, shaking her head. They pointed to the door, and Rachel, puzzled, followed them back out into the crowded hallway, and then into the ladies' room.

"Ok..What happened, you guys?" she asked, more seriously.

Quinn and Tina squeezed themselves into a single stall like they did whenever there was a crisis, pulled her inside, and shut the door. This was definitely not good.

"Will you guys just tell me? Right now." She said with a warning voice.

Quinn handed her iPhone. "Look at this," she said.

Rachel looked down at the screen. It was a video clip on YouTube. On it, she could see her mother, sitting in a folding chair, in her purple halter dress, fielding questions from the press. It was the fashion show.

And then she saw herself. Sitting next to her mother. Wearing the strapless Trina Turk dress. And talking into a microphone. Rachel turned up the volume, just as she heard herself say the words she couldn't get out of her head: _Actually, it kinda sucks….and I think her clothes are slutty._

_Holy Shit._

She watched it three time until Tina gently pulled the iPhone out of Rachel's hands. "You okay?" Tina asked, slipping the iPhone back into her cotton tote, silkscreened with a picture of her French bulldog.

There had been 13,379 hits already. In just two hours, it would be doubled. Every fashion and celebrity gossip blog would have link to it by the afternoon. And underneath the clip, a post had said:

_She's just fucking jealous cuz her mom is hot. And she got hit with the ugly stick._

"Rachel, talk," Quinn said, her deep green eyes were filled with worry.

"Does your mom know?" Tina asked calmly. She smelled like Kate Spade's orange blossom-scented perfume.

Rachel just nodded. "I told her last night, and then we had a huge fight. Now she's on plane to Paris. But the publicist's was supposed to take care of it.

"Well, obviously, that publicist's ding a crappy job," Quinn said. "I say you call her up and complain."

"Or go down there and talk to her about it," Tina suggested, her brown eyes sparkling. "Ask her if there's anything you can do. She won't be mad. She has no _right_ to be mad."

"Uh, right," Rachel said, staring at some graffiti of a broken heart that some nameless girl had scratched into the wall. "You guys haven't met Natalie. She's paid to get mad." She touched the wall of the stall to keep herself steady. "Oh my God, guys. I called my mom a slut."

"Correction: you called her _clothes_ a slut," Quinn corrected her.

"Why'd you do it?" Tina asked patiently.

Rachel shrugged, feeling the tears come to her eyes. "I asked her before we got there if I could skip the photo craziness and it was like she didn't even hear me. And lately, the cameras and the pictures, the posing with her…it's just kind of hellish.

From deep inside her bag, her iPhone dinged with a text. Her first though was that it was her mother. She pulled out the phone and checked the screen. It was Natalie. "It's Natalie," she announced to her friends.

She clicked on the message and read it aloud. "_We need to talk. NOW. Call me at my office. A.S.A.P—N." _Rachel put down her phone. "Great. I almost got killed by my parents a while ago and now she wants to kill me.'

"She probably just wants to help you," Tina said, twisting her black hair up to a makeshift bun and securing it with a pencil. "This is not the end of the world, okay? This is not 2012."

Rachel nodded. Her friends were right: this wasn't the end of the world. She really didn't believe that the world will end on 2012, but she can count it, anyway. This wasn't the end. Even If thousands of people already watched the clip.

She wrote Natalie a quick reply, saying that she would be able to stop by after school, and then walked back into the homeroom, where Finn waited for her near their usual cluster of desks, looking adorable as usual. "Hey," he said, grinning. "Everything okay?"

"Sure, everything's fine," she said, even thought she wanted to cry.

The rest of the day was torture. During each class, she pretended to listen and take notes, while deep down in her mind, a deep voice kept repeating YOU ARE A TERRIBLE DAUGHTER.

When the bell rang after their class, Rachel, Tina, and Quinn walked straight to the corner of Fifth Avenue, hailed a cab and jumped in.

When they got to Natalie's office building in midtown, Rachel paid the driver and stepped out of the cab.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Tina asked, looking up at the tall, foreboding skyscraper. It was one of the hundreds that lined the cool canyon of Third Avenue but this one looked especially scary.

"I think so," Rachel said. She looked enviously at the people passing by, their face free and innocent of wrongdoing. Chances were, none of them even insulted their mothers on YouTube. "Okay, let's go guys." She said.

She swung her bag to the other shoulder and led the way through the revolving doors, into a soaring atrium—style lobby.

After a swift, silent elevator ride, they walked out into a sterile-looking reception area done in a depressing burgundy color scheme. She'd been here only once before, with her mom.

"You want us to go with you?" Tina asked, biting her pouty lower lip with concern.

"No, that's okay. I think I can handle it by myself. You guys wait here." Rachel gestured toward the two couches.

"Just don't forget, she works for you," Quinn said, bossily pointing an index finger in her face.

Rachel headed toward the frizzy-haired receptionist. The phones were ringing off the hook.

"You can go right in," the girl said, pointing down the hall. "Last office on the left. Natalie's expecting you there." Apparently, she'd seen the YouTube clip, too.

Rachel turned and padded down the soft-captured hallway, her bag sliding onto her arm. _Relax_, she told herself, tying her hair into the best version of a ponytail she could. One ten-second clip wasn't the end of the world. It wasn't like she'd done anything illegal. Natalie was used to DUI arrests and panty-less crotch shots. Surely, she'd be ably to put in some kind of perspective for her. Even if she was tad uptight, from what Rachel remembered.

Toward the end of the hall, she heard a familiar, withering English accent.

"She's a _teenager_ for God's sake!" the voice said. "You know how _bloody _disagreeable they are, they say whatever comes out of their mouths. It's not like it means anything!"

It was coming from the last door on the left. _Maybe Natalie won't be able to put this in perspective, _Rachel thought.

"No, Shelby doesn't have a comment, and there are _no_ problems at home," the voice went on. "And, Oh my God, there is real news out there!"

It was way too late to turn back. With a gulp, Rachel stepped through the doorway.

Natalie sat behind a desk piled so high with trades and magazines and newspapers that at first Rachel could barely see her. She was tinier than Quinn, and always looked like she was playing dress-up in her uniform of sharp, pinstriped suit and lace-trimmed camisole. She wore her usual accessories- a thick silver cuff bracelet and a silver Cartier tank watch, and a razored fringe of black bangs ended just above her tiny, raccoon-lined eyes.

Those eyes darted towards Rachel's direction, like a cobra's, as she said, "Look darling. I have a meeting. Another crisis, you know. Yes, lunch would be fab. Talk soon." She pulled off her Bluetooth and tossed it in between a stack of newspapers and a thick September issue of _Vogue_. "Well, hello, Rachel," she said. "Speak of the bloody devil."

Rachel sat down in a Lucite chair in front of her desk. This had almost definitely been a mistake.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry about what happened," she started. "This was all a big mistake. And if there's anything I can do-"

"Do you have any idea what kind of day I've had?" Natalie demanded, in a tone that suggested she was about to answer her question. "Do you?"

"Um, actually..uh….," Rachel began.

"Of course, you don't, "she snapped. " Let me tell you this. On an average day, I get a _hundred_ of phone calls-a hundred and ten, tops," she said, gesturing to the sky. "But today, I've had one hundred and _ninety-five_ phone calls, all because of you, Rachel, and it's not even four o' clock! Every minute, a new entertainment channel or newspapers something like that calls me. _Every minute. _Hell, I can't even go to the bathroom or get a coffee!"

As if on cue, her six-line phone began to ring. Natalie glared at Rachel and inhaled deeply, pressing her index finger against the inner corner of her eye, as if she was trying to prevent a total nervous breakdown. "Amanda!" she hollered toward the door. "Can you get that, please?" Natalie removed her finger from her eye and took another deep breath.

"You've had a hundred and ninety-five phone calls?" Rachel asked.

"You heard me. I had calls from _Star, Us Weekly, _TMZ, from the _Daily Mail _in London, from Paris to Tokyo!" she continued, lifting each of her black-polished fingers. "All of them wanting to know why Shelby's daughter said such horrible things about her mother."

"But my mom said you were taking care of it-" Rachel said.

"It's the bloody internet, for God's sakes!" Natalie snapped. "Now, I've done what I can, but I can't do everything. I'm not Superman, Rachel. Listen to me, Rachel, listen to me very carefully," Natalie said, placing a hand on heaving chest. "I don't know how you behave at home, but you can't just go shooting your mouth off when you're in public. And especially not in front of a camera crew. This is the twenty-first century, Rachel. Privacy doesn't exist any more. Do you understand that?" Natalie shook her head as if privacy was too absurd for even her to contemplate. "And at Fashion Week? My God, you've been there enough times, you know how things get. If this were your first time I would have understood, but my God…"She let her voice trail off with outrage. "You have to be smart, Rachel. You have to _think," _she said, vigorously tapping the side of her head. "You have to be more careful about what you say. To call your mother's designs slutty? That's not gonna work. You have to protect your mother. We all have too."

"I was just surrounded," Rachel stammered. "I got freaked out, this guy ambushed me-"

"You say to them everything's fine, everything's good, and that your mother's an inspiration to women everywhere," she emphasized. Natalie's phone rang again. "Amanda!" Natalie yelled.

"Have you heard from my mom?" Rachel asked tentatively.

"Not yet. But I'm sure I will. It's causing quite a stir."

"Oh," Rachel mumbled.

Natalie turned around to face her computer monitor. "Let's see," she said, reading from the screen. "The _Post _wanted it to be the lead story for their Entertainment section this weekend. Famous mother and daughter catfights through the history, or something stupid like that. _Star _wants to put you and Shelby on the cover next week. Oh, and Tyra wants to do an intervention-type show with you and Shelby. _When Your Mom Is Hot and You're Not._ We're obviously not returning that call."

A tall, twenty-something girl in skinny jeans and with a hangdog expression knocked the door. Rachel could only guess it was the long-suffering Amanda.

"Yes?" Natalie asked.

Amanda trudged into Natalie's office. "That photographer called again for Shelby's kid. About the ugly modeling?" she announced, placing the slip on her desk. "Don't worry, I got rid of her."

There was a long silence. Rachel pretended to become very interested in the box of Kleenex on Natalie's desk.

"Amanda?" Ntalie said sweetly. "This is Rachel Berry. Shelby's daughter."

Amanda went pale as she stared at Rachel. "Oh," she said. "Hi. Sorry."

"You can go now," Natalie commanded.

Without a word, Amanda walked out. Natalie turned toward Rachel and gamely attempted to smile. "I was going to tell you about that, "she said. "A photographer saw you on the clip. She thought you had a _unique_ look." She said, hooking her fingers into air quotes around the words.

"It was for ugly modeling?" Rachel asked. Maybe it was time she finally embraced this.

"That's just the slang term for it," Natalie said. "It's _real-person_ modeling. Using people who aren't _traditionally_ beautiful to sell products. It's starting to get some attention here and there in the ad world. But speaking as your publicist, too, it's out of the question," she said, crumpling the message slip. "I want you to stay away from anything and anyone with a camera. The longer you make yourself scarce, the sooner this circus will go away. And really Rachel…would you want your mother to think that you turned this into a career opportunity?"

She tossed the slip toward the trash can at the side of her desk just as the phone rang again.

"Oh God, hold on," she said, glancing at the screen. She clipped on her Bluetooth. "Hello?" she whined. "Yes, hi. Yes, I know it looks bad. But my God, slutty isn't the f-word," she said, swiveling to the side.

Rachel looked back at the trash can. There, on the carpet, just inches from Rachel's feet, was the slip. Natalie missed the can. The crinkled piece of paper lay just inches from her foot, begging to be picked up. Suddenly, she wanted to see the words in writing "ugly modeling". Maybe it would help her finally accept it.

In one seamless motion, she leaned down, snatched up the slip and stuffed it into the front pocket of her bag.

"Yes I know it's Shelby, but I don't understand why this is news," Natalie said, still looking out the window. "Aren't you supposed to talk about poverty or something?"

Rachel got to her feet. This seemed the right time to make her exit. She waved at Natalie, who still hadn't seen her get up.

"She's a teenager!" Natalie screamed. Rachel took off down the hall

When she reached the lobby, Quinn and Tina had their noses buried in issues of _InStyle_.

"Let's go, you guys," Rachel said hurriedly, as the receptionist watched her closely

Tina and Quinn joined her at the elevator bank. "So what happened?" Tina whispered.

"Natalie says she's finally taken care of it," she replied glumly.

The elevator doors opened with a whoosh.

"But have either you guys ever heard of ugly modeling?" she asked. She didn't know why, but saying "Ugly modeling" filled her with a sense of defiance, or purpose. So the whole world thought she was ugly. There was actually a certain relief in it.

The doors closed. "You mean people weir-looking they're hot?" Quinn asked.

Tina nudged Quinn hard in the arm. "People who are different-looking. It's the new thing."

Rachel felt for the slip in the pocket of her bag. "Some photographer called Natalie about me and said I had unique look," she said. She pulled out the slip and smoothed It open. "I just can't tell who it is," she said, trying to read Amanda's scribbling.

Quinn grabbed the slip. Her dad was constantly leaving notes for her in his barely legible handwriting. "That says Andrea Gomez," she said, reading. "One fifty Crosby Street."

"Oh my God, Rachel,' Tina said dreamily, placing a hand on Rachel's wrist. "She wants you to be a _model?"_

"Well, a _weird _model, apparently."

"You have to do it," Tina said, shaking her head. "This is fate. You have to."

"No way," Rachel said, pressing the lobby button over and over.

"Why not?" Tina asked.

"Because Natalie said it was a bad idea. And it probably is, with the whole YouTube thing happening. And, come on. An ugly model? Is that something I'm supposed to be happy about?"

"Look at all those people who model for American Apparel," Quinn reasoned. "They're weird-looking. And hot."

"That's because they're in their underwear," Rachel reminded them. "Nope. I'm not doing it."

The elevator doors opened, as they walked through the lobby.

Outside, the streets were crowded with the start of rush hour. A red double-decker bus filled with smiling tourists lumbered by. Despite Natalie's tirade, Rachel felt better. Calmer. She'd move on from this. She know it. And, she was even a little bit flattered. A photographer wanted her to be a model. Even it was ugly modeling, nobody ever asked her to do that before.

"If you don't want to do it," Quinn said, "then why'd you save the slip?"

Rachel pulled the slip back into her bag without saying anything. Quinn had a habit of making points that were impossible to debate. And then she heard her iPhone chime. She pulled it out. It was a Facebook friend request and message from Finn.

_**You ran out before I could remind you about tomorrow night. You're still coming over, right? 7 o' clock.**_

_**-Finn**_

"Oh my God, you guys," Rachel said. "Finn just texted me. To remind me about tomorrow night."

She showed her friends the message. "I knew it!" Quinn cried. "He _wants _you."

"Are you gonna friend him? You have to friend him!" Tina squealed.

Rachel pressed the Confirm button. She and Finn Hudson were now officially friends. Well, on Facebook. But maybe, just maybe, Rachel thought, they were on their way being more.

~Finchel~

**Chapter 6: Done.**

**Please Review if you want this story to continue:)**

**Some tidbit about Chapter 7:**

**~Will Rachel accept the "ugly modeling", or will she take the advice that Natalie gave her?**


	7. Getting Ready

**Hey!**

**I know all of you guys want to kill me for the long update, but i'm back!**

**Disclaimer: Nope.**

**~Finchel~**

"Hey, Rachel, Put this on," Tina said as she plucked a lace-trimmed lavender camisole from the pile on the shelf.

"I don't want this. It looks like my cleavage is gonna be exposed. I'm going to a party Remember? Not on a stripper club," Rachel grumbled with an annoying tone.

"Isn't that's the way it's supposed to be? The _whole _point?" Quinn's voice chimed in, as she took the camisole from Tina's delicate hands and tried to look at the mirror. "Of course you have to flirt with him tonight."

Rachel felt like throwing up. The clock was ticking. In exactly seven hours, 15 minutes, and 3 seconds, she was going to the Hudson Residence and have a _possible_ date with Finn. She was more than prepared. But when she invited Quinn and Tina to shop with fer for some clothes, they made her more nervous, and so was the store. A seventeen-something girl slammed into her as she rifled through the racks with her mom.

"What if it's not a date?" Rachel carefully turned around and asked Quinn and Tina, fingering the sleeves of her shirt. "I might look like stupid and ridiculous there for flirting with him and afterwards knowing it wasn't a date."

"Pff, As if this isn't a date," Quinn muttered. "Because he invited you earlier than the others and he wants you to help him for assembling just the foods and drinks if he can order someone to do it." She grabbed a long black dress with spaghetti straps off the hanger and showed it to them. "How about this? Hot isn't it?"

Tina muttered something in Korean and frowned. "Why exactly do you need that?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Duh. School dance, Remember?" Quinn said as she put back the dress on the hanger. "Whatever, i guess i don't really need that."

"Here, Rachel, put this on, too," Tina said, tossing her a gold and sparkly top with crisscross straps. "You might look like gorgeous there."

"Yeah, yeah. Just wait here. I'll be right back," Rachel said. Seriously? Sparkly tops weren't her thing. She needed to excuse herself before Tin can go and pick out another flashy and _seriously_ not her types dress.

She yanked the curtain shut and took a look of herself on the mirror. Her eyes were wide, and her nose was just unusual, and her hair, thanks to the weather, looks like the Bride of Frankenstein. Maybe Tina was right, a sexy top couldn't kill her. It's just a party, right?

She tried the lavander camisole first. She was right, she was slightly exposed to the chest area, much to her dismay. Okay, she was conscious of her boobs, since it wasn't really that big like Quinn and Santana. But as she turned around to look at the mirror, it didn't really looked horrible. It was pretty. No, scratch that, it was _hot. _The lavander color made her hair look pretty even if it's a mess and it warmed her skin. Of course, Tina's sense of style is always right.

"So, what do you guys think?" She said as she quickly opened the curtain.

Tina was shocked. But pulled Rachel all the way out of the room and look at her from head to toe. "Is that you? Big thumbs-up, right, Quinn?"

Quinn tapped her chin with her finger while she looked at the black dress she grabbed earlier. "Yep. Totally hot. Finn will be drooling."

Rachel took again an opportunity and looked again on the mirror. She did look hot...but will Finn even like it? She tried to see herself through his eyes. Was her skin not that soft? Maybe she'll just use the tanning lotion her mom brought to her. And her arms, was it so shapeless? She turned around. They'd been childhood buddies, for God's sake. She never worn anything _showy_ like this before.

"Sorry, But i don't think this outfit is for me," she decided.

"What are you talking about?" Tina blinked with her warm, brown eyes. "It's perfect. You should buy it."

"But, it's kind of..."

"Hot, sexy?" Quinn said. "But that's an advantage!"

"I don't think so," she argued and scurried back to the fitting room. She could feel Quinn and Tina exchanging weird looks from each other like she was crazy or something. But it was her body wasn't it? It was up to her if didn't want to go to Finn's house and look like Santana Lopez.

She tried her best to look for tops that fit her. But none of them worked. After they waited Quinn to buy her dress, they walked out into the stream of tourists on Broadway.

"Can i be honest? That was ridiculous and lame," Quinn spoke.

"You looked beautiful in that color, Rachel," Tina sai with a low voice. "What made you decide not to buy it?"

"It wasn't me," Rachel said. Hoping her frineds would just shut up and kill the subject.

"But it was!" Quinn shrieked, almost causing the tourists to look at them.

"You don't see yourself the way we see you. You see yourself as pathetic, whick is so not true," Tina said diplomatically.

They turned east onto the Spring Street and walked toward NoLIta. Rachel always loved SoHo-the streets, the ancient buildings, and the mixture of actors, models, singers, and tourists there. A man stepped out of a Bakery with a loaf of French bread and pedaled away with his bicycle. As if this was Paris.

"Well, maybe i don't see myself as beautiful as you two think, but i know myself better than anyone else," Rachel finally said. "I am who i am. And no one can change that."

Quinn rolled her eyes and huffed. "So, you're a feminist now?" She said with her distinctive and most intimidating tone. "I can change tht. Call that photographer. ASAP."

"Photographer?"

"The woman from yesterday, From your meeting with with Natalie? The woman who wants you to be a model." Tina chimed in.

"Wait a minute," Quinn said, stopping dead in her Havaianas flip-flops. She pointed straight ahead of her. "Were in her neighborhood. She's resided on Crosby Street, right? One-fifty Crosby Street."

Quinn had a sharp memory ever since they were little. She always aced the tests together with Rachel, but Quinn was always the sharper one. She was so smart that it kinda freaks Tina and Rachel out.

Quinn walked closer to have a better view. "The building says one-oh-five and-"

"We're gonna go there? Seriously?" Rachel interrupted with a warning tone. "Like, _Now?"_

Quinn shrugged, her shoulders grazing the tips of her blond hair. "And why not?"

Rachel's brow furrowed. "Because i haven't really decided this? Seriously guys, Let's just leave."

Quinn was stubborn, of course. She headed down the block. "Don't think about stuff so hard," She gave her a piece of advice.

Rachel could feel herself stuck on a Twilight Zone.

"Here is it," Quinn said, coming to a stop in front of an ordinary glass door. "Andrea Gomez.," she read off the list of residents tacked next to the front door. "And we're going to Fifth Floor." She calmly rang the buzzer.

"Quinn!" Tina shrieked. "Don't do that. Stop!"

But Quinn dismissed them with a wave of her hand. "She'll be psyched. We will tell her that Rachel Berry is here with us."

Rachel's eyes widened. "But..but.."

Tina took Rachel's shaking hands. "We'll try and help," she said calmly, as she looked at Quinn.

Quinn grabbed the door and looked at them "Ya'll ready?" After saying her words, she pulled the door right open, just like a whoosh. "We're finally in." she said, her eyes glistening with adventure. Quinn always lived for stuff like this.

"Lord, please help me," Rachel chants again and again.

On the fifth floor, they walked out on a elevator into a long hallway. A door at the end was marked _A. Gomez. Studio._ "This is very, very bad. It's not even funny." Rachel said.

"Don't worry, i got your back," Quinn whispered as she pressed the doorbell. Rachel glared at her.

A few seconds later, the door opened. A woman with green eyes, blond ponytail, and tan skin stood there. In a black t-shirt, ballerina skirt, and flats, she looked like a one hot college student. Like a Lindsay Lohan appearance. But Rachel could tell that she was twenty-five or twenty-six or something like that.

"Hello there," The woman said with her red and pouty lips, looking to them up and down with no hint of surprise on her face. "I thought you guys were the pizza delivery guy,"

Quinn stood there ans said a loud "Ahem." before making an eye contact to the woman. "Umm..Are you Andrea Gomez?" She said with her business-like and adult voice just like her father.

"I am," Andrea replied with a serious tone.

Quinn pinched Rachel forward. "This is Rachel Berry," she announced.

Andrea stared at Quinn then took a look at Rachel with an amused and surprised face, as if she was being Punk'd. "Why, hello there, Rachel." She stuck out her hand and grasped Rachel's. "I'm Andrea Gomez," she said with her proud tone and wide smile. "This is surely a surprise. I thought you weren't gonna call back. Come on in, Guys."

Andrea turned to walk down a narrow entry hall as the three of them followed, giving each other weird looks. "I'm really sorry about the mess. I forgot to clean it all up." Andrea muttered over her shoulder. "I wasn't expecting visitors on this hour. But i know all of you can deal."

They walked to the hallway. It was big. With the sunlight from the big windows shining. Above from them was a gold chandelier. A Beyonce song blasted from the sound system, just loud enough for the beats to pack a wallop. The hallway smelled like piney-scent. Rachel knew that Finn loves the smell of pine. A makeshift set had been set up in the center of the room, complete with light stands, tripods, a fan, and a giant roll of white paper that served as the backdrop.

"Can i get three of you a drink?" Andrea asked as she went to the small kitchenette. "Tea, Vitamin Water, Coffee, Coke?"

"I think Vitamin Water will be the best option," Tina replied, looking at Quinn and Rachel, who were busy staring around, fascinated and surprised. She looked at Rachel, who walked to the corner to take a quick look to the portraits.

They were mostly o people's faces in various levels of close-ups. They were ordinary people. Soe were like teenagers. Some were middle-aged. Some were elderly, with age spots and wrinkles. And all of them has the same flaws. Big teeth, Unusual noses, untweezed eyebrows or something like that. But you couldn't take your eyes off them even they are weird-looking. They were like, _weirdly-beautiful._

"I'm very surprised that you got my message," Andrea said to Rachel, handing them a bottle of Vitamin Water. "The girl i spoke didn't exactly like me, i think. So, were you weirded out?

Rachel looked at Andrea and gave her a weak smile. "I guess so," she admitted. "What is it you do exactly?"

"I mostly shoot for magazines, ad campaigns, or something that makes me hold a camera. I use regular models, too." she explained, walking straight to the portraits with Rachel following her. "This is my thing. Real People. Like her." she pointed to a picture of an elderly woman with gray hair and wrinkles. "I found her on a train. She's seventy-three, a great-grandmother, and when i informed her that she could be a model, she thought i was on drugs." She paused a brief moment then chuckled. "But she turned out to be good. I shot her for a shampoo ad. She's been working ever since."

"They are beautiful," Rachel said.

"O course, they are," Andrea went on. "But there is something else happening right now." She folded her tan arms and grinned. "Something i call the New Pretty. Like Selina." She pointed a teenage girl. She was tall, with tiny eyes, and long, blond hair. She wasn't really that hot, but she was unusual-looking that she commanded attention.

"She just signed with a modeling agency," Andrea said.

"So, then why is it called _ugly _modeling?" Rachel asked.

Andrea rolled her eyes. "Ugly, right." she said with a rueful chuckle and expression. "A better word is unique. And that's you, Rachel." Andrea pointed to her. "None of these people ever thought that they could model. None of them even thought they were beautiful. But people do. And i think they'd want to see you, too. You have a gift, Rachel."

Rachel just oddly stared at her. Andrea thought that she was actually pretty? As in, drop-dead gorgeous?

Quinn, as usual, broke the awkward silence. "So, what would be the first step?" she asked, sounding businesslike again.

"Test shots. We could do them on the streets, Where people might be able to see you. Or at here at the studio. Wherever you're comfortable." Andrea grabbed a card from a stack on a nearby table and gave it to Rachel. "Talk about this to your mother. Seek for her opinion. I'd be happy to speak to her."

Well, that was unexpected. Her mother. Rachel remembered Natalie's harsh and mean voice. _Would you want your mother to think that you turned this into a career opportunity?_

"Can i have one of those, too?" Tina said.

"Me too," Quinn chimed, walking over.

She need to say no before this could get far. "I'm very thankful for your offer, but i'm afraid i have to say no. I just don't think i might be able to do it," Rachel said in her most proper way. "It's just not for me. But i wanted to come by and thank you for the offer."

Andrea looked at her with a dismay. But she replied her with a weak and gentle smile. "I respect your choice," she finally said. "I know this might be hard for you, But...just hang on the card," She shrugged. "You never know, right?"

Rachel just nodded. But Quinn and Tina were giving her the _are-you-crazy_? looks as Andrea led them outside.

"I'm happy you guys took the opportunity the stop by," Andrea said, opening the door. "And if you guys happen to see the pizza guy outside, send him in." She patted Rachel's shoulder. "Great to meet you, Rachel. Good luck."

Andrea shut the door close. For a minute, Quinn and Tina stared at her.

"Have you lost you mind?" Quinn exploded as they walked down the hall. "You were just _discovered!_"

"And she was very nice!" Tina exclaimed, almost jumping up and down. "She told this nice things about you. And did you see her stuff? How real it was?"

"You guys, You all know i love cameras. Being famous or something like that," Rachel said as she pressed the elevator door. "But i don't wanna be famous for ugly modeling. I'm not inclined to that."

"That's the whole frickin' point!" Quinn emphasized. "This would be a challenge for you. Like a Fear Factor."

"That's right," Tina chirped. "Everything happens for a reason. To make you get over your issues,"

"Remember what Natalie said?" she asked them, giving up on the elevator and opened the door to the stairwell. "Stay away from the cameras. Or in other words, Stay out of trouble."

"Natalie isn't the boss of you!" Tina exclaimed.

"Exactly. And you mom woild never need to know." Quinn suggested.

"How?" Rachel asked as they went down the stairs. "How would this not get back to her?"

"There are a lot of ways," Quinn hedged. "We'd figure something out."

"What if she finds out?" Rachel panicked. "I would be dead!"

She knew Tina could relate to this, but she was quiet as a mouse. Tina never wanted to talk about her potential music career.

"You don't need to follow her footteps, Rachel," Tina finally said as they turned toward the corner. "This is different from what she does. It's a different modeling, you know."

"Just do it. What will you lose, anyway? You could be following the steps of Gisele Bundchen after that. Why not try?"

She said goodbye to her friends on the corner of the street and watched them walk west. She could still smell the pine scent inside of Andrea's studio. Part of her says that she should accept the offer, but part of her said she must not. Andrea said she was pretty. She turned and looked back down the street where Andrea's building is on.

Suddenly, she had a thought. She started walking down the street. She walked faster. She rounded the corner onto Broadway. The tourists and shoppers had thinned, to her surprise. It only took a few seconds to reach the doors of the Big Drop.

Inside, she maneuvered her way out of the bunch of teenage girls and went straight to the stack of camisoles. The lavander one was right on top, back on the fitting room. Yes, it had been a little low-cut, but right now, she felt confident. Like she didn't really care.

"Just this, please," she said to the woman on the cash register, handing her a credit card.

As the woman ran her card, Rachel's eyes wandered to the wall behind her. It was a framed photo of her mother, wearing dark jeans, aviator, shades, and white, sexy shirt. It was one of those "In Their Own Clothes!" feautures from one of the tabloids, and it shows Shelby Corcoran as a customer. Rachel was always used seeing her mother's face plastered all over the city. Mostly at random places.

The saleswoman handed Rachel her card and put the top in a paper bag. "Come again," she said with a low-tone.

After making her way out, Rachel checked her watch. Only six hours, twelve minutes, and three seconds to go before she and Finn were finally alone at his house. She walked out the store and smiled giddily, swinging the paper bag. She just hoped everything will turn out good.

**~Finchel~**

**Finished with Chapter 7!  
**

**Don't forget to review!  
**

**Next Chapter:**

**~Rachel and Finn: ALONE TIME!**


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